


11. Gloria (feel your innocence slippin' away)

by china_shop



Category: due South
Genre: Drag Queen, Fic, M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-15
Updated: 2010-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:31:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was a girl and not a girl, Vecchio and not Vecchio, and for a second when he looked at her, Ray's world swung wide because he was starting to feel things—like under all the makeup and the wig and the dress there was a person he cared about, a person who wasn't Vecchio but nearly—and what did that say about him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	11. Gloria (feel your innocence slippin' away)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sageness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageness/gifts).



> Many thanks to Sage for read-through.

Fraser must have been waiting just inside the apartment, listening out for them, because he opened the door before Ray had a chance to get his key in the lock. He was wearing his navy cotton sweater and jeans, and he was barefoot.

"Hello, Benny." Gloria patted his cheek, her fingernails dark red against his skin, and then looked around. "Nice place," she added, deadpan.

Ray grinned and followed her inside. "Yeah, well, you know how it is. Fraser said if we were having a lady over, we had to make sure the place was presentable."

Gloria leaned in close to Fraser, and asked softly, "You tidied for me, Benny?"

Fraser cleared his throat and blushed. "Of course."

Ray snorted. Okay, so this was the first time Gloria had come home after a show, but Vecchio lived here. Ray never really got the distinction between Vecchio and Gloria—it was stupid to pretend they were completely different people, like they didn't exist in the same world. It was brainless. Except that when Fraser pretended exactly that, it wasn't like he was pretending at all—he believed it, and his whole-hearted belief made it more true.

And, secretly, that freaked Ray out, because much as he loved Vecchio and appreciated Vecchio's relaxed grace and his wicked laugh, his warm scent, and even his giant schnozz and the way his close-cropped head left his neck all soft and kissable—as much as all that, Gloria was not Ray's type. On the stage, she was amazing—the lights and the crowd and the way she sparkled and held everyone's attention—but in person, face to face, her make-up was too heavy, she moved like a guy, and her nose was enormous for a girl.

Ray's type in ladies was small and quick, elegant and vulnerable. His type in guys was Fraser and Vecchio. Gloria didn't fit into either category and that made him feel guilty, so he just pretended and didn't say a thing.

But Fraser—Fraser obviously loved Gloria as much as he loved Vecchio. He found her hot in a way that didn't make any sense to Ray. So Ray figured he'd let Gloria and Fraser get it on, and he'd stay out of the picture as much as he could, and then it would be over and they could go back to being just the three of them—Fraser and Vecchio and Ray—like it was supposed to be.

He hung up his black leather jacket and then politely helped Gloria off with her silver fake-fur coat. She was wearing a shimmering midnight-blue dress, a string of creamy fake pearls, and that long straight Cleopatra wig she liked. She only had on low heels, but she was still a couple of inches taller than Ray and Fraser.

Ray took a step back toward the kitchen. "I'm just gonna—Can I get either of you a drink?"

Fraser's gaze rested on him briefly, eyebrows raised, but then Gloria said, "White wine," and he turned back to her with a smile.

Ray went into the kitchen and rubbed his face, kicking himself into behaving properly. This meant a lot to Vecchio—Ray was not going to fuck it up. He got a beer, a glass of water for Fraser, and poured a glass of white wine. When he carried them through to the living room, he found Fraser and Gloria making out on the couch.

"Jeez, that was quick," he muttered, coming up behind them.

They pulled apart slowly, both grinning. Gloria's lipstick was smeared. "What can I say? I'm easy," she told him, twisting around and fluttering her eyelashes.

Fraser laughed—he had smudges of lipstick, too. Ray put the drinks on the dining table, leaned over the back of the couch, and wiped Fraser's mouth clean with his thumb, and Fraser caught his arm and pulled him down into a kiss that tasted of lipstick and Fraser—two tastes that did not belong together—and smelled of Gloria's perfume.

Ray pulled away as soon as he could, and there was an awkward moment where Fraser seemed to be thinking that Ray should kiss Gloria next, but Ray stood up and went to distribute the drinks instead.

Gloria sat with her knees together and her hand on Fraser's arm, and smiled up at Ray until Ray licked his lips nervously, sat down next to her, and took a gulp of beer.

"Relax," Gloria told him. "I don't bite."

"Oh, yeah, no, I know." Ray moved away enough that he could look at her. "I'm just—you know. Wired. It's a little—"

"Weird?" said Gloria, and when Ray finally met her eyes, he saw a tinge of pained embarrassment there.

"No," he said quickly. "No, I mean, I just—" He took a deep breath and let it out. "I don't know you that good, you know?" He touched her hair. It almost felt real.

Gloria's mouth quirked up at the corner. "Well, now's your chance."

Ray glanced at Fraser—who nodded encouragingly—and then he put his beer on the coffee table, turned back to Gloria and studied her. She'd gone easy on the make-up this time. Her eyelashes weren't impossibly long, and there were no sparkles on her eyebrows. Her mouth was—sweet and unexpectedly vulnerable.

Ray's heart thudded, and he touched her cheek lightly. "Hey."

She was a girl and not a girl, Vecchio and not Vecchio, and for a second when he looked at her, Ray's world swung wide because he was starting to feel things—like under all the makeup and the wig and the dress there was a person he cared about, a person who wasn't Vecchio but nearly—and what did that say about _him_? Was he really the kind of guy who wanted his boyfriend to wear a dress? That was a whole new line in freakish, even for him—a cop who lived in a threesome with another cop and a Mountie.

But even as these thoughts were pinging around his brain like frenetic pinballs, he was drawn forward toward Gloria, sweet Gloria—and her eyes were falling shut, the little crease between her eyebrows smoothing out.

Ray stopped trying to force her into categories where she didn't fit—what was the point? He angled his head and kissed her dutifully, brushing his lips against hers, testing his own reactions.

It was maybe the softest kiss he and Vecchio had ever shared—except this wasn't Vecchio, he had to remind himself. Ray stayed with it, letting himself sink into the experience. And then Gloria's mouth parted beneath his, and her tongue was flickering between his lips, inviting him in, and all in a rush, Ray felt like he was falling, had to steady himself. He braced his hand on the back of the couch and let the other slide from Gloria's shoulder, down the slightly scratchy sleeve of her dress to her waist.

She curved around toward him, and Ray—keeping his eyes shut—pulled her closer, and then another hand was over his, Fraser's warm thumb stroking his wrist, and when Ray moved back and opened his eyes to see what was going on, he saw Gloria with her head tilted to one side, and Fraser holding her long hair out of the way so he could kiss her neck, just below her ear.

If Ray squinted, he could see it was just Vecchio in makeup and a dress—but when he let himself, he saw Gloria now, awkward and not very pretty but somehow beautiful despite that.

Ray swallowed around the lump in his throat and kissed her again, pushing her back against Fraser, feeling her breasts squash against his chest. She moaned quietly and clenched her hand in his sweatshirt to keep him close, and oh Christ, this was getting serious and Ray had no idea how this was supposed to go. Did Gloria officially have a dick or was that a no-go area? He decided to play safe and keep his hands above the waist until told different.

Luckily, there was Fraser, and Fraser had no such misgivings. Fraser's hand slipped away from Ray's wrist, and the next thing Ray knew, Gloria was leaning forward into him, forcing him back against the arm of the couch while Fraser did something—Ray couldn't even tell what—under her skirt. Gloria was breathing heavy, going to town, kissing him wet and messy and more like Vecchio every second. Ray started to get turned on—and frustrated because he had nothing, there was nothing to rub against.

"Jesus," he muttered against Gloria's mouth and brushed his thumbs along her collarbones. She gasped. He thought briefly that she'd gasped 'cause of him, but then he registered the sound of a lube bottle—Fraser, always so fucking prepared—and Ray shuffled lower on the couch so he was sprawled in the corner, with Gloria lying half on top of him, kissing him frantically, and Fraser behind her with one foot planted on the floor and his hands busy under Gloria's skirt.

"Oh Jesus," said Ray, again, and then Gloria was nudged forward by Fraser starting to fuck her, and Ray was going to have to unbutton his fly— _have_ to right now, have to get some relief.

Before he could get a hand free to do it, though, Gloria was right there popping the buttons open and helping Ray out like she was psychic. And Jesus fuck, she had nails and she knew how to use them. She was rocking forward with every one of Fraser's thrusts, and her hand stroked and squeezed in the same rhythm, while the hem of her dress whispered against Ray's jeans.

Ray let his head fall back and watched her—her tongue wetting her red-smeared lips, her eyes hooded, her hair mussed and tangled around her shoulders, swinging in time to their fucking.

"Gloria," he said, trying it out, and she opened her eyes and looked at him for just a second, a look of pure happiness, before Fraser must've changed his angle or something 'cause she started groaning, _Yes yes yes, oh Christ, don't stop, don't stop!_

Tension built inside Ray, and this should've been a crazy situation, should've been a _joke_ , but it wasn't, and he _loved_ her, and that realization was enough to shock him away from orgasm. "Come here," he said, and held her head to kiss her, following her movements.

She panted against his mouth and, clumsily balanced on one arm, moved one of his hands under her skirt to her cock. _Mmmmmm._

Ray did a quick reconnaissance, smoothing down her hairy thighs, and figured out she was wearing a garter belt and stockings, and Fraser must've pulled her panties out of the way. Ray curled his fingers around her cock and she bit his lip, hard enough to hurt. He jerked back. "Ow!"

"Sorry," Gloria gasped. "Sorry, just—Christ! Don't stop!" She looked wild-eyed and desperate, and her cheeks were so flushed Ray couldn't tell anymore if she was wearing rouge. He moved his hand along the familiar length of her cock, and they jerked each other off while Fraser fucked her.

Gloria came first, long shudders shaking her, and come wetting Ray's hand and thigh, probably making a real mess of her dress. Her hand stalled on Ray's cock, but once she'd caught her breath, she went back to stroking him. Then Fraser cried out, calling out her name so Ray almost felt jealous for the first time in a long long time, and he stopped thrusting, all three of them frozen in place as he held Gloria close and came in her ass.

Ray was close, now, and there was something nostalgic about the scent of sex filling the room, mingling with perfume and turning him on even more. Gloria tumbled forward, burying her face in Ray's neck, and then Fraser was nudging her out of the way, taking her hand away and pulling Ray's hips around, going down on him, just exactly right, knowing exactly what Ray liked.

Ray curled his toes up tight to keep from coming, clenched his hand in Fraser's hair and tugged him up. "Nuh-huh."

Fraser looked like a wet dream, his mouth an _oh_ of blowjob and surprise. Surprise made sense—Ray didn't think he'd ever in his life stopped Fraser from blowing him before.

"No," he said again, and looked up to meet Gloria's face. "Please."

She raised her eyebrow and Ray shook his head, unable to explain that he wasn't asking for that. He couldn't find the words, so he took her hand and guided it back to his cock to show her.

"Thought I was supposed to be getting to know you," he managed to say, as she started stroking him again.

Her laugh was almost a sob. "Aw, Ray," she said, tenderly, and kissed beside his eye, his cheek, before finding his mouth again. Her kiss was confident now, and sultry, and Ray wasn't going to last much longer. He let his hips hitch up, thrusting into her fist, and then he was coming, stretched out taut on the couch and letting it all out.

Afterward, he slumped bonelessly beneath her, too used up to keep his eyes open, a grin plastered across his face. There was some shuffling around, and Gloria clambered off him and shoved him out of the way so she could sit up on the couch, and then Fraser and Gloria said some stuff about her dress and drycleaners, but through all that, Ray was too self-satisfied to pay much attention.

It wasn't until Fraser said something about supper that Ray pried his eyes open. "Food," he said, sleepily. "Sounds good."

"I believe it's your turn to cook," Fraser pointed out.

Ray groaned. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Pass the phone."

Gloria rolled her eyes. "Pizza again?"

"What do you know about it?" Ray winked at her.

She straightened the bodice of her dress and failed to hide a smile. "I—"

Fraser interrupted. "Surely you're aware that Gloria has an undercover agent keeping a close eye on us, Ray? You can't expect us to believe you didn't know that."

Ray laughed, and pressed the speed-dial for pizza with one hand while he pulled his jeans up with the other.


End file.
